July has been a terribly sad and extremely busy month. On July 3rd my mom passed away at the age of 88. I was fortunate to be there at the time and had called an ambulance a day before she died as it was clear to me she was in far more pain than she should have been for her diagnosis. She had been complaining of severe back and stomach pain and her doctor sent her to an orthopedist in April, but the pain got to be too much and she had my 92-year-old aunt take her to the ER where she lives. The ER did a CAT scan which indicated a highly suspicious pancreatic mass. The ER staff never told me this when I called to ask what the findings were. They said she had diverticulitis. Her doctor never read the CAT scan report so unfortunately we did not know that she had pancreatic cancer and were not all able to get up to be with her and have the opportunity to help her through her final days. Fortunately our son went to help her out for several days and thought I should come when he left. This is all so sad and frustrating as my son took her to a doctor appointment about a week before she died and my sister was on speaker phone to the doctor and asking questions if it could be anything more. The doctor stated it was diverticulitis and so we assumed that was what was going on.

Sometimes though things happen that softens the sadness. When my husband and I pulled up to the ER in the middle of the night after the doctor called me, we saw a large deer walking very slowly in front of the hospital door. It walked in front of our car and stopped and looked at us. I immediately thought of my dad and his love for deer and felt his presence. I thought maybe he was helping to bring her with him. When we got upstairs we learned she had passed away peacefully a few minutes before. We spent some time saying goodbye. No one had thought my mom was that close to death. She had been quite herself and active the entire day. She did get her wish to die in her sleep but we are all grieving her loss. When we went to leave the hospital we saw a doe wandering in a field. I can’t help but think that this was my mom going off to meet my dad.

14 Responses to Sea me

What a difficult thing to go through Susan. Thank you for sharing it. The part about the deer brought tears to my eyes. There is often so much wrong with the way hospitals/Drs approach severe illness. I think they can be very shortsighted rather than looking at the big picture and what is most important for the patient and family. Love the picture of your mom. Your kids look like her particularly Alex! Hug

Susan,
I am so sorry for your loss. My mom is 87 and I know the day will come soon that I will lose her. I wonder if it really makes it any easier to be “prepared”. Very hard either way I would think. My prayers are with you and your family.

Susan – I am so sorry to hear about the loss of your mother. I think losing a parent is one of the most difficult losses. I hope that when you remember all the special and fun times you shared with your mom, that your tears will turn to smiles and laughter. I have no doubt that the deer was your dad coming to get her!
Big hug,
Linda Yoder

Susan…..I’m so sadden to hear of your loss……it was truly a sad yet joyful story. The deer was definitely a messenger to those living that your mother is going to a better place. Best wishes to you and your family……but keep painting! It will help take your mind off……..

Me

Wild Life for Susan Medyn, a poem by David Formanek

Wild life erupts
from the crevices
cracking open the planes
between the daily
and the unexpectable.
Its rules are simple:
Eat, rest, and the other thing.
Wild life paints its offspring
with revealing masks to attract
congenial company, and repel
the hungry, and stun
its food before it eats.
Where do you fit in,
in our concrete hives,
our wooden termite colonies,
our iron leaves that raft us across the waters?

Medynology by David Formanek, a poem about my artwork.

Everyone is many people
and some of us are brightly tinted critters
who converse, unmindful
of their flower-freak exteriors,
happy for the company of their compeers.
Look this way and look that.
Face the faces that favor you.
It doesn’t really matter what you say,
only that you’re hearing the other.
The cat cries for happiness and desire.
The birds call because they’re born to sing.
At the same time, talk is cheap—and priceless.
Are my friends tangerine, magenta, cerulean, chartreuse?
Are yours chimeras, sphinxes, nymphs, and sprites?
In a scale-less Eden,
blossoms quiver looming over glooming trees.
Anything can talk to anyone,
then turn around to talk the other way.